


Sickdays

by Shamera



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Gen, Illnesses, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2023974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamera/pseuds/Shamera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope is insufferable when sick, Noel is worried, and Snow is surprisingly insightful. (Only a handful of years after XIII-2.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part the First: Hope

  
  
Hope woke up that morning with an uncomfortable thickness at the back of his throat.  
  
 _Oh,_ he thought even as his thoughts were barely making its way out of the muck of sleep, _no._  
  
The sun was too bright from where it peaked in from behind curtains and his head felt drowsy, more so than he usually felt early in the mornings. He was tempted to just pull his pillow over his head and then pretend that the day had yet to come, that it was just some dream and it was actually still in the middle of the night when he'd have hours of sleep yet. A cursory motion at clearing his throat of the thickness dispelled the idea of a dream, though, as he started coughing when the thickness grew into a tickling sensation just out of reach.  
  
 _Allergies._ Hope told himself. It was just that time of year again, that was all.  
  
He must have closed his eyes for just a moment, but soon enough he could hear the ringing of his phone, far too loud and shrill in the morning -- who in the world could be calling him at such a time, anyway? Unless the world was ending (which he had already experienced multiple times, and was fairly certain wouldn't be happening again today), Hope was rather content to ignore the phone.  
  
No, wait, that wasn't right. He had important things to do and couldn't ignore any calls.  
  
Opening bleary green eyes, he reached from under his bed covers to the phone, rasping out a greeting as he attempted to make out who it was from.  
  
"Director?" The hesitant female voice belonged to his current assistant, and Hope tried to shake off the lethargy to follow her words. "Are you alright? It's... twenty minutes past your first meeting."  
  
What?  
  
Hope shot up in bed, gaze sharpening as he confirmed that fact with his bedside clock. It was nearly two hours past when he usually woke in the morning!  
  
"I've rescheduled the investors and and delayed the research department's follow-up inspection to fourteen hundred hours, but another delay would mean that the department needs a secondary in order to get their reports in on time. Should I contact a secondary for them?"  
  
"No need." Hope choked out, attempting to both follow her crisp words with his fuzzy thoughts and physically get dressed at the same time. "My apologies for -- oversleeping," and the word felt distasteful on his tongue, like laziness and a general lack of work ethic, "but I should be in the office within the next thirty minutes."  
  
There was a momentary silence Hope took as assent for a moment before his assistant said, "Perhaps I should cancel your schedule for today, Director? I can send you the reports for today directly. You sound rather ill."  
  
Hope paused in his efforts. Was his voice really that hoarse?  
  
"The excavation team isn't going anywhere." She continued, "And a contagion would prove distracting at the physical point of our work."  
  
The words were blunt, but made sense. Hope himself had made the same argument many times for co-workers to stay home and recuperate, both for their own health and also for the health of their co-workers around them. The most critical point of illnesses, he had said severely to many, was at the very beginning when it was still infectious. Those who got plenty of rest and plenty of nutrients from when the very first symptoms showed up always recovered the fastest. It was better to take the time to recover than infect the rest of a department. Results were produced best by a cleaner work environment.  
  
It was that very reason Hope hadn't been the slightest bit ill for the past several years. That, and the lack of outside exposures seeing as he rarely deviated from his routine from home to office and back... and even in instances when he did (such as this), his transport and temporary residence was provided by the Academy.  
  
He felt groggy and tired, perhaps with an itch at the back of his throat, but not really sick.  
  
Still.  
  
"I'll send the investors a message regarding the meeting," Hope said carefully, intoning his words in an effort to filter out the graininess of his throat. It would be disappointing to delay his tour of the developing research site in the Dead Dunes, but it couldn't be helped. Better safe than sorry, after all.  
  
"I'll send you their contact details." His assistant said, sounding pleased that he was listening to her advice. "Don't forget to get some rest, Director."  
  
After she disconnected, Hope lay back down on his bed and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, legs still over the edge. He tried not to be disappointed by the atrocious timing of oncoming illness -- he had been looking forward to the inspection of the Dead Dunes -- and wondered just where he might have contracted a virus.  
  
\--  
  
The rest of the day passed slower than Hope would have liked, the growing itch in the back of his throat developing into something more irritating and persistent with each hour, no matter how much juice and supplements Hope ingested. Not something that could be staved off, then.  
  
After setting up a holographic conference with the investors he had missed in the morning with profuse apologies (it ended up rather well when Hope had to clear his throat several times just to get a full sentence out. The group had been rather disappointed they wouldn't actually be meeting him in person, but had been sympathetic enough to understand why it hadn't happened that way), Hope buried himself in backlogged reports and maps the excavation teams had uncovered.  
  
The Dead Dunes were vast and treacherous, and progress had been slow in uncovering its secrets. It had been a week ago that the excavation team had requested his insight to several minor discoveries they had made: several markers and tablets long buried deep in the sand with languages so old that very few knew it.  
  
As someone who had studied the evolution of script from Pulse to Cocoon and then back again, Hope had been one of the very few.  
  
It was a break from micro-managing various branches of, of all things, politics rather than science. The years after chaos had taken over grew to be more and more stressful and was taking all of Hope's patience and experience with rebuilding world governments. But without a pressing and critical goal to banner under, people's attentions had divided and scattered into a system of isolation as different lifestyles clashed and then was diffused by what was left of the Academy.  
  
They just didn't have the manpower or the motivation to decide everyone's moves any more, and it was all Hope could do to keep peace and manage smaller teams in several outposts. He had no interesting in rebuilding society a second time.  
  
It was night time when Hope gave up on attempting to get more work done, his thoughts far too scattered to be of use to anyone and the itch in his throat now distracting enough that he was both coughing and cursing himself mentally for contracting a cold mid-spring, when everyone else had long gotten over their own illnesses.  
  
\--  
  
Unlike the previous day when Hope had woken with the vague feeling that he was going to be sick soon, the second morning Hope knew with an absolute certainty that the day was going to suck.  
  
He groaned and threw an arm over his face to block out the irritating sunlight streaming in from the window of the temporary outpost, curling up away the exasperating brightness only to have the movement irritate his sensitive throat and result in a coughing fit that left him gasping for air as it _wouldn't stop_ until he literally had no breath to expel. He winced, pressing his forehead against the pillow as he drew in much needed air, only to be surprised by the amount of pain that accompanied the intake of breath.  
  
He buried his face further in his pillow, darkening his sight as the sharp pain slowly faded from behind his eyes and he traced it back to his airways, the warm breath of his exhale bringing a stinging sandpaper sensation to his throat. Painful, yes, but bearable. A tentative swallow brought up more pain. Too dry: he needed water.  
  
"Well," an unexpected but extremely familiar voice spoke up from close by. "That sounded like it hurt."  
  
Hope had just enough breath to groan again, this time louder and straight into his pillow, taking a few precious seconds to compose himself and his thoughts before he rasped out, "It's not the end of the week yet."  
  
"Your assistant called -- Loretta? Leticia? Nice girl. Said you were sick, and, well, here I am!"  
  
 _Aina_ , Hope wanted to correct, but knew it would be a futile attempt and a waste of breath. He's had the same assistant since he arrived in 500AF, but Snow had never managed to remember her name and always came up with new ones when he spoke to her, which as a point for him wasn't very often.  
  
He didn't want Snow there; had barely agreed to the call once a week since Snow had meandered off to help rebuild the cities and Hope would travel to settle disputes and research the chaos. Hope didn't know what he had expected -- of course the self-proclaimed hero wouldn't be able to sit still and just --  
  
No. Hope squashed the thoughts with a vengeance and bitterness he hadn't expressed outwardly for many years. It had been extremely childish and even _stupid_ of him to imagine that had things been different, had someone, anyone at all, stayed with him while he was growing up rather than leave on missions far beyond anything Hope could lay claim to, that he wouldn't be --  
  
Alone.  
  
He wasn't now, of course. He stayed with Noel half the time, and Snow came and went as he pleased, but...  
  
Well, Hope hadn't known he had been expecting. Of course not.  
  
(It's just that he missed the close bonds he used to have, still missed his mother and her attentiveness and smiles -- he missed the days as l'Cie when the group of them would gather around a fire for food and soft laughter, willing the inevitable away and believing that everything would be okay not because the world was fair but because they were all _together_. He missed the warmth of sitting knee to knee with others, of falling asleep against shoulders and knowing that the person would still be there come morning.)  
  
Hope startled as fingers carded through his hair and then settling on his forehead, and he could hear the frown in Snow's voice. "You might have a fever. You'll feeling a bit warm."  
  
At that, Hope reached up and shoved Snow's hand away.  
  
"Hey now, don't be like that." Snow chastised even as Hope scowled darkly at him. "You look like you don't even want me here!"  
  
"I don't." Hope rasped out, feeling rather vindictive through the sharp pangs that breathing brought him. He glanced up at the man, even if the dim lighting of the room hurt his eyes and made him want to bury his face right back into the pillow. "Your hair's dumb."  
  
That hadn't what he had been meaning to say, but it didn't make it any less true. It was with a sadistic glee that Hope watched from behind his pillows as Snow pulled back in confusion and then reached up to rub a strand of his blond hair between fingers and frown thoughtfully. It really did look rather silly gelled back like that, and _really_ , it was Snow's own fault he was being criticized considering the man couldn't seem to find a moment to look into a mirror to see the fault for himself and that he managed to invade Hope's bedroom without so much as a warning.  
  
"You look like a chocobo." Hope clarified, just in case Snow needed that clarification. "But then, that'd be insulting chocobos, so I shouldn't say that."  
  
Snow dropped the strand of hair and then made a point to squint at Hope, leaning just a bit closer and making the scientist scowl harder. "...You’re as bad as Lebreau when she’s sick, aren't you? Hoo boy. This is going to be an experience."  
  
"Why would Aina contact you, anyway?" Hope grumbled, ignoring that statement entirely. He shoved at his blankets, feeling entirely restless and tired at the same time. It was like he hadn't gotten any sleep the night prior. " _How_ would she have gotten to you?"  
  
"...I might have signed off as your next of kin back in 400AF."  
  
Those were words Hope hadn't expected to hear. "What?"  
  
Snow looked sheepish, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling and slumped in the chair next to Hope's bed. "Couldn't have left you completely by yourself four hundred years in the future, right? That would be irresponsible of me."  
  
Hope wondered for a moment just how Snow thought signing a document would make him any less alone during that time period.  
  
“Besides,” the man continued, ignoring Hope’s bleary glare. “After that whole thing with Alyssa, I had to keep an eye on you somehow.”  
  
That didn’t make any sense at all. “...Alyssa?”  
  
Snow stilled, and then waved that question off. “Never you mind about that. All you need to worry about right now is getting better! I’ve got everything else covered right now.”  
  
Normally, Hope would have pursued the topic just because he didn’t like the feeling that Snow knew more of this than he did, but now… now he was too tired to start an argument. Too tired and in too much pain with every intake and then careful exhale of breath because somehow it felt like someone was running a hot wire across in the inside of the skull every time he exhaled, following his breath in ways that should be possible (for example, he was fairly certain that his exhalations did not actually pierce through his brain like that no matter how much his body was attempting to tell him otherwise right now).  
  
“I’d rather not think about being sick or getting better at all.” Hope grumbled, and then finally attempted to sit up from bed, still glaring blearily at Snow when the man grinned at him. “I’ve got work to catch up on.”  
  
And he wanted a glass of water. Or a lot of water. Or just something that would slick up his throat. Or something that would take away his respiratory systems entirely so that he wouldn’t have to worry about breathing.  
  
There was an idea. Maybe he could build a machine for that.  
  
“Hey, no, don’t get up for work!” Snow protested, gesturing at Hope to stay as if he were some kind of pet. “Didn’t I say I’ve got everything covered? Look, I’ve got food on right now so you don’t have to worry about that, and Noel took a delay in Luxerion to get some supplies. I sent him for everything you might need — cough drops, decongestants, bandages, painkillers, anything to reduce fevers…”  
  
Hope felt a little offended. “You told Noel—? Why is he even getting all of that? I’m not _dying_ , Snow.”  
  
“I know that.” The man waved his irritation off. “But all Lucille said was that you were sick! We didn’t know with what!”  
  
“Well, it’s not the plague.” Hope sniped back, reminded of his earlier irritation. “But you’re welcome to be infected along with me if it is.”  
  
Snow drew back, expression unreadable for just a moment before he put his fingers up index finger to thumb each hand and peeked at him through the area between his fingers. “You know, if I squint reeeeal hard… you really could be like Lebreau right now. Sure you two aren’t related? You might be, you know. The attitude’s certainly there.”  
  
Hope decided to ignore him, instead pushing himself out of bed and stalking heavily across the cold floor in attempt to get away from the man all the sooner.  
  
“Hey, where are you going? C’mon, don’t be like that, Hope!”  
  
“I’m going to get myself a glass of water,” Hope narrated as he stomped into the tiny kitchen provided in the humble abode he was given, “And then get ready for the day.” His throat still hurt like hell, and for a moment he wavered between wanting to bend into a curl before he stubbornly pushed through, deciding that he didn’t want to give Snow even an inkling of weakness on his part.  
  
True to form, it really did seem like Snow was attempting to cook something brothy over the stove, although the rich smell of it nauseated him rather than appealed to his senses.  
  
He was just fine, Hope thought grumpily. He didn’t need someone hovering over his shoulder, because Snow was going to be more a pain than help and he already knew it. He was just a bit tired and in pain, but that wasn’t anything new to him.  
  
“I’ll get you water.” Snow amended, already barging into the kitchen as well. There was barely enough space for the two of them, and Hope made sure Snow knew this by shoving the man away very pointedly. “You just get some rest and — h-hey! C’mon, Hope.”  
  
“One,” Hope rounded on the blond, his back already pressed against the small counter space even as Snow backed up a step with his hands up in surrender. “I don’t need your help here. I’ve got a cough. I’m not dying. Two, I’ve got work to do, whether or not I can actually go to the excavations. You’d just get in the way.”  
  
“Ouch.” Snow said without any heat, leaning back away from Hope’s accusing presence. “You got so much meaner when you grew up, Hope.”  
  
The scientist made a disgruntled sound, his patience at an end already thanks to the irritation in his throat. All he wanted were some painkillers and then maybe some peace and quiet to get some work done. Maybe a lot of water, and then more peace and quiet.  
  
Any other time, he might have welcomed a bit of company. Maybe. However, being in pain wasn’t one of those times.  
  
“I’m going to get ready for the day, and then read over some reports.” Hope announced, ignoring Snow’s words just as the man was apparently ignoring his. He grabbed the glass of water, and stomped over to the tiny dining table where he stored most of his tablets and technology, bits and pieces of it disassembled thanks to boredom the day before. Looking at the mess, Hope suddenly wanted nothing more than a steaming cup of coffee to wake him up, but he doubted it would help him feel that much better when Snow was still hovering behind him.  
  
It didn’t matter, Hope thought darkly. Wait long enough, and Snow was sure to get bored and wander off. He’d just have to concentrate on work until then.  
  
—  
  
“Are you sure that’s going to work?”  
  
“It’ll work. Trust me, he’s just—”  
  
It was the shifting the brought Hope away from the darkness of exhaustion, and he turned his head away from the movement and murmured something incoherent before settling once more when everything grew still again, his world once again thick and warm like a cocoon of dark molasses.  
  
“...That was too close.”  
  
“You make it sound like he’s one of the monsters from the chaos.” The voice sounded amused, but still quiet.  
  
“He might as well be, right now.” There was a pressure around his shoulder blades and under his knees, but Hope managed to mostly ignore it for the warmth of his dreams. Slowly, slowly, there was a bit of movement, but it was gradual enough to tune out. “As dangerous as one. Even more so. You should count yourself lucky you’ve never had to deal with him when he’s sick.”  
  
“What, he’s that bad? You’re joking.”  
  
There was a chuckle, just as low as the whispers, and Hope curled in discontent when he felt cold fabric against his cheek. Soft. The familiar scent of his pillow, still smelling slightly of the travel shampoo he packed before the trip. His brow furrowed.  
  
“Last time I did this,” the voice whispered, “he was fifteen and Bartholomew called—”  
  
Hope frowned, and then kicked out when he felt someone pull at his shoe, satisfied enough by the muffled curses that resulted that he managed to slip back deeper into the dark, even if the weight of the shoe disappeared as well.  
  
There was a snort and then the sounds of laughter being smothered that accompanied the squawk of pain.  
  
“I swear he does this on purpose.” The voice murmured, and then sighed. “He was never this bad with Serah.”  
  
“What, Serah’s done this before, too?”  
  
“Yeah. Like I said — Bartholomew called that year because long story short there was an massive flu epidemic during that season, mostly passed through school and the such. Heh. First flu season down in Gran Pulse, more like, and it hit all the kids the hardest. I remember that year Maqui managed to drop all the spanners down some Behemoth’s nest accidentally and we spent the next few months finding them in the guts of all the Behemoths we had to take down because they kept attacking the settlement — more like trying to look for more ‘comfort’ food, if they were raised on a diet of Cocoon-made metals.”  
  
“You’re such a liar, Snow, Behemoths don’t eat—”  
  
“But they do! They did. You’re spending too much time with Hope if you’re going to pick up that attitude. _Anyway_ , that year Serah’s entire class got sick, and what was only weeks after she just started teaching them, too, so a few parents were worried that their kids being exposed to the ex-l’Cie would have dire consequences or other crap like that. We were all pretty upset then since no one could prove they were wrong, even though they _were_.”  
  
The weight of the other shoe disappeared, but this time Hope just pressed his face against the pillow, breathing evenly.  
  
“It was right in the midst of all those accusations Bartholomew gave us a call to tell us that he was needed at some Sanctum conference immediately, that he’d been putting it off for days because Hope had been sick, but even Rydgea couldn’t stall for him anymore. He asked us to look after Hope for two days, and then he’d be back and take over again.”  
  
There was slight pressure, somewhat chilled, pulled over to Hope’s shoulders. The cold didn’t last long, just as his pillow had warmed up quickly as well.  
  
“And, well, that was proof enough for us. If we were the culprits, then how could Hope be sick, too? I left first, since there were still a few parents who wanted to talk with Serah about things… made sure that Gadot and Lebreau would be with her at all times, and then I took a ship over to Hope’s place.”  
  
There was a huff in remembrance. “Kid was just wandering around with a fever, kept insisting he was just fine and didn’t need anyone to look after him. Guess not that much has changed.”  
  
The voices grew quieter, as if the people moved further away.  
  
“Took me nearly an hour just to get him to sit down instead of fall down. And then he wouldn’t even eat — kept saying there was no way he could trust my cooking and he could just make it himself to be sure he wouldn’t be poisoned.”  
  
Once again, there was muffled laughter.  
  
“And _then_ ,” the voice continued, although the grousing tone was slowly fading into something more amused, “he found his way out of the house — I took my eyes off him for _one second_ , and there he was standing at the doorstep with his feet covered in mud and this — this scraggly old furball that couldn’t even be described as a cat in his arms, claiming that she’s been meowing outside his window the past two nights and he was going to bring her in and feed her and keep her. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, either, not that I tried very hard since I figured I’d just let his father deal with that behavior, but…”  
  
This time the voice cut off snickering. “Turns out, a few hours after he’s pulled the damned thing inside and washed and fed the menace, he’s entirely allergic to cats. I’m talking rashes everywhere she touched him, and let me tell you, that was one affectionate cat who must have thought he was her kitten or something because she wouldn’t stop _cleaning_ him—”  
  
This time, breathy laughter from both voices which stopped suddenly when Hope huffed and turned over, pulling the blankets higher until barely a tuft a pale white hair could be seen.  
  
“I tried to get him to give her up,” the voice gasped between breaths of laughter, “and he _tossed her at my face!_ After I finally managed to get the cat out, he threw up in the kitchen, and — get this, told me that it must have been because of my poisoned food, the same one he didn’t even eat. It just got worse after that, all the way until Serah showed up, and then he slept the entire day she was taking care of him.”  
  
The laughter faded as Hope finally drifted completely into the darkness.  
  
—  
  
He woke suddenly to a powerful itch in his throat, coughing as he doubled over into his pillow, each heaving breath toeing the line between the need to physically expel that itch and the pain that would blossom as his lungs attempted to keep up with the thick syrupy exhales.  
  
Worse yet was the fact that once he woke coughing, he couldn’t seem to stop no matter what he tried — holding his breath only worked mere seconds before the itch broke through and spasmed his throat to exhale again, until he was dizzy from lack of breath, unable to breathe in as fast as he seemed to expel his breaths.  
  
He pressed his face hard against his pillow, his entire body tense to the point of shaking, feeling overly warm and exhausted with his hair starting to stick to his forehead and the sides of his face. His ribs hurt and his knees ached as he dug them into the mattress, and Hope was starkly reminded of long days before an important deadline when days of paperwork resulted in little to no sleep and eventually a full body ache between his joints which marked his exhaustion and need for proper rest.  
  
 _No way,_ Hope thought to himself. This was, what? The third day he was sick?  
  
“Hey,” a quiet voice coaxed his attention, and Hope raised bleary eyes in the darkened room to see Noel standing at the edge of the bed, a glass of water in one hand and and a cap in the other. The brunet looked slightly frazzled and a little cautious. Hope couldn’t figure out why.  
  
Instead, Hope shook his head slightly and turned back to his pillow, attempting to muffle his coughing in the cotton fabric.  
  
“I’ve got cough syrup,” Noel offered, nudging at Hope’s side with his elbow. “You’ll feel better after you take this.”  
  
It took nearly another minute of gentle coaxing before Hope could catch his breath long enough to receive the small plastic cup filled with sickly sweet clear red gel without spilling the thick syrup all over the blankets. He grimaced as the scent wafted over to him, feeling especially sensitive to the smell. Still, it was only a moment before Hope steeled himself and downed the cap in one go, making a distressed noise as his tongue was coated in sickly sweet.  
  
Noel handed him the glass of water wordlessly after that, looking sympathetic as Hope downed the glass as well, the cool liquid a blessing as it came into contact with the syrup, spreading blessed ice down his throat and suppressing the itch that had plagued him the past few minutes.  
  
“Better?”  
  
Hope nodded, eyes shut tightly even as he scraped his tongue against his teeth in efforts to rid himself of the medicinal taste. “Yeah,” he croaked out, the cracking of his voice indicating the damage that had been done with just a few minutes of coughing. “Thanks.”  
  
“Go back to sleep,” Noel told him. “You’ve barely been out for three hours.”  
  
He didn’t remember going to bed. He must have fallen asleep over his paperwork, but… “I don’t remember you coming in.”  
  
“Snow let me in.” The hunter said, and then took the empty cap and glass of water away. “Sleep.”


	2. Part the Second: Noel

Hope woke once again in the dark, more tired the previous time but without the hacking coughs. This time, however, the itch in his throat was already back and persistent enough to make him squirm under his covers, feeling too warm until he kicked the blankets off. After that he laid in his bed for a moment, holding his breath and aching all over, before he decided that attempting any more rest was entirely futile with the way he was feeling.   
  
It was impossible to refute being sick anymore, not when he felt like death warmed over. His throat, surprisingly, felt slightly better now that he was upright, although now he was starting to shiver from cold. A carefully drawn breath had him wincing and bringing his head down to his hands, trying to smother away the resulting pain that flared sharp right behind his eyes.   
  
He took a moment to carefully breathe into his hands, mind blank except for the nagging insistence that he wanted more rest but knowing he wasn’t going to get it.   
  
Might as well get up, Hope thought miserably. Get some medicine, get some work done…  
  
He pushed himself up from bed and swayed a moment before his legs stabilized, and then shivered as he moved in the dark to grab a coat. He didn’t bother with the light just yet since he could see just fine enough in the dark to not walk into anything, and that was really all that mattered to him at that moment. It was only at the open doorway to his temporary bedroom that Hope hesitated, surprise blossoming across his features as he took in the scene of his small living area connected straight into the tiny kitchen with dining table.   
  
Snow was sprawled over the couch, head pillowed on one armrest while his legs dangled over the other side, the man obviously too tall to fit. He had his arms crossed as he slept with a towel over his eyes, snoring lightly with every slow inhale.   
  
Noel had taken over the armchair, asleep upright with his chin dropped his his chest, and with his swords across his lap and one hand still on the handle. It had to be uncomfortable for the both of them, and yet…  
  
He shook away the thought and the surprisingly thick feeling in his chest, attributing that to be being sick. So much for getting any work done out there, but… maybe if he could sneak a few of his reports into his room, he’d be able to get some things done.   
  
He stepped as lightly as he could over the area where the other two were sleeping, intent on getting some water and then medicine and —   
  
Hope was in for another surprise as he took in the sight of his tiny kitchen counter, covered entirely with medical supplies and then piles on piles of medicine. Did — did Noel just ask for one of _everything_ at the pharmacy? He poked at a few of the packages cautiously, and then muffled his groan at the realization that there really was far more than anyone should have gotten for something like a cold. Was that _burn salve_ at the bottom of that pile? _Really_?  
  
He rustled through the piles as carefully as possible before he found the open package of cough syrup and picked out a small bottle of painkillers. Taking those two items away from the large mess, Hope rummaged for a glass of water before downing two pills and another cap of sugary sweet syrup, making a face at the sink before refilling the water. Might as well take all of that back into his room as well…  
  
He stopped quickly at the tiny dining table, picking up two random tablets and balancing his glass of water and medicine on top of it before turning to return to his room —   
  
Only to jerk away and nearly drop everything as he just about ran into Noel.   
  
“Don’t — don’t _do_ that!” Hope hissed quietly at the young man, clutching the items tighter and trying to calm the sudden spike in his heartbeat. He could feel his blood starting to pound in his head, and spared a quick prayer for the painkillers to kick in before it could get too bad.   
  
“What are you doing up?” Noel asked him, looking genuinely baffled and not trying to be quiet at all. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now? I just left you not an hour ago!”  
  
Hope flailed slightly with the items in his hands, trying to shush the hunter enough to not wake Snow. “I couldn’t sleep.” He said, barely above a whisper and darting a quick glance over to the couch where Snow was still snoring away. “So I wanted to get something done.”  
  
“Hope.” Noel looked disapproving. “You won’t get better if you don’t rest.”  
  
“And I just told you, I couldn’t sleep.” Hope frowned, feeling the familiar flare of irritation. He huffed and narrowed his eyes defensively. “So unless you plan on actually knocking me out…”  
  
At those words, Noel actually backed up a step and held up his hands in surrender.   
  
“I’m not going to do that!” Noel exclaimed. “I just— look, Snow and I just want you to get better.”  
  
“Trust me,” Hope groused, settling the weight of everything he was carrying against his ribs. “You’re not the only ones.”  
  
Two full days of this and Hope had long since had enough. But it also reminded him…   
  
“Thanks.” He said after a moment, hoping he didn’t sound too begrudging. He nodded toward the large and shadowed pile on the kitchen counter. “For the medicine. And—” Hope’s mind blanked for a moment. “For coming out here, I guess.”  
  
It was easier with Noel, anyway, since the two of them stayed together half the time rather than Hope’s exposure to Snow’s weekly updates. While the two of them were usually busy with different things, Noel had gotten dragged along often enough when Hope needed extra help, and after a few years, it felt routine to have Noel around; almost as familiar as it felt to be alone, anyway.   
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Noel hesitated, looking torn between relief and a lingering concern. “...How are you feeling?”  
  
“Terrible.” Hope answered, and then shook his head. “But not as bad as earlier. I suspect it’ll be better in the morning, and I’ll just have to hold out until then.”  
  
“It might be better if you sleep more than a few hours at a time.” Noel commented, but then sighed. “I guess that can’t be helped.”  
  
Several feet away, Snow snorted in his sleep, making the two of them freeze. The blond shifted deeper into the couch cushions without changing his position, smacking his lips several times before relaxing into a snore, this time much louder than previously.   
  
“Oh, no.” Noel grumbled even as Hope laughed quietly under his breath. He wasn’t surprised that Noel also knew of Snow’s habit of sounding like an oncoming train when he slept deep enough. It didn’t always happen, but Hope could remember the times when it _did_ during their l’Cie journey and Fang had forcibly shut Snow up by shoving fabric into his mouth until he started choking on it (not that it worked at all, either).   
  
“C’mon,” Hope coaxed with a tilt of his head. “I’ll pull out an extra blanket for you. If we pull the cushion from the armchair too, it’ll probably be easier to sleep on the floor in my room if we closed the door.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks,” Noel agreed, sounding relieved. The brunet winced as he stepped over to tug the cushion off. “Tried sleeping through that once in Sunleth, and…” He shrugged helplessly. “I’d rather not do that again. Don’t know how Serah could stand it, she didn’t so much as twitch that night. Slept like a baby.”  
  
“It’s probably music to her ears.” Hope winced as the snoring gradually grew louder. Thinking about just how long Snow and Serah had been separated, it probably _had_ been a comfort to Serah knowing that she knew, at least for that one night, exactly where Snow was and that he was alright.   
  
The two of them made their way over to Hope’s room, where he promptly closed the door and the got a towel from the in-suite bathroom to shove at the bottom of the old wooden door and block out just a little bit more noise. He pulled out the spare blanket from the small closet, feeling the painkillers start to kick in as he breathed easier.   
  
“Don’t stay up too late.” Noel cautioned even as Hope returned to bed, setting the water and medicine down on the bedside table and then turning his attention to his tablets. “Get as much rest as you can, okay?”  
  
“I will.” Hope reassured absently, and then turned his attention to research updates and budgets.   
  
—   
  
“I won’t.”  
  
“You will.”  
  
“I won’t!”  
  
“You have to — ow! Hope! What the hell?” Snow hobbled awkwardly as the scientist turned and fled the small kitchen, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him. The blond grimaced, and then shouted, “You’ll have to come out for food some time!”  
  
There was only an angry thump in response to that.   
  
Noel shut the door behind himself quietly, unsure whether or not he should ask. The past two days spent here in the Dead Dunes had him treading extremely lightly thanks to Snow’s precautionary tales and Hope’s uncharacteristic behavior, but it seemed that as easily irritated as Hope got with everything, he was just as easily appeased whenever Noel took that extra step to help.   
  
Snow, however, seemed to irritate the man at every turn.   
  
“What happened now?” Noel finally relented, watching as Snow hopped about wincing and favoring his left foot.   
  
“He’s still not eating.” The blond groused, looking peeved. “You’d think — that as an _adult_ , he would start _behaving_ like one!”  
  
The last words were practically shouted at the closed door, and there was an angry thump inside the bedroom in response to that as well. Noel shook his head, wondering just what it was that had to two of them on each other’s nerves all the time. It had never been so bad before… granted, likely because Hope tended to be the most level-headed of them all and could usually take any situation and calmly turn it to his advantage.   
  
It seemed, however, that as time wore on and Hope felt worse and got less sleep, the more frazzled and childishly stubborn the man became.   
  
The day before, the man insisted on taking a walk outside even if it wouldn’t be to the excavation sites because he felt he needed the fresh air and sunlight. While Snow disagreed, Noel had been all for the escape (and not just because it was just easier to agree with Hope as it meant less frustrating moments later on) and the two of them had embarked outside for merely an hour before Hope had to return, dizzy and face rubbed red.   
  
“Allergies.” Hope had grumbled as he collapsed onto the couch that day, sniffling and tentatively cleaning tender skin with a wet towel. He turned wide, pink lined eyes toward Noel then and asked, “Did you manage to pick up any antihistamines before you got here?”  
  
Which lead to a second trip to Luxerion and this time the cupboards being filled with medicine as well, and perhaps the first night Hope managed to sleep more than 1-3 hours at a time (although he still woke at least once through the night). It almost felt like he was doing better if not for the fact that the man was currently living on a diet of water, juice, medicine, and supplements.   
  
It didn’t help that Hope had a continuous on and off again low grade fever that was really starting to worry Noel.   
  
(He didn’t want to lose any more people to things he couldn’t fight off.)  
  
Snow, on the other hand, hadn’t been that worried.   
  
“It’s fine.” The man told him the night before after Hope finally dropped off to sleep. “It’s normal. Fevers are how people fight off illness. You should be more worried about whether he’s going to set fire to _us_ the next headache he gets.”  
  
Also, Noel noted from the sounds coming from the bedroom, the coughing hadn’t abated one bit. Especially not after Snow cut off the cough syrup supply after finding out Hope had been taking it once every hour or two rather than the 4-6 doses a day the label on the bottle warned not to exceed.   
  
Two days of this and Noel felt his own patience starting to fray.   
  
He had always been an exceptionally healthy child, and a good thing too seeing how often illness claimed the lives of people back in his own timeline. Hope had once questioned him on that a while ago, but Noel just responded that when other people got ill, he just felt a bit fuzzy for a few hours before getting better. Noel didn’t like seeing people sick, because sick people usually meant a quick funeral shortly after. He couldn’t understand how both Snow and Hope seemed to be having… well, not an _easy_ time of this, but neither were at all worried that it could be something more serious.   
  
Noel, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to shove back his dread.   
  
He wanted Hope to get better soon, not only because then the scientist would _be better_ and it might actually end the constant tension but because then he might be able to rest a little easier at night without having to force himself to tear his attention away from Hope’s stilted, quiet breaths and restless movements.   
  
“Want me to give it a try?” Noel asked, nodding toward the bowl of thick soup Snow must have plated which looked like it had long since gone cold. The past day he kept himself out of the bickering, but maybe that would now help convince Hope to actually eat something.   
  
“Go right on ahead.” Snow grumbled, throwing down a kitchen towel he had been using to clean the counter. His usual carefully gelled back hair was in disarray, sticking up randomly in all directions as he ran fingers through the strands again in what looked like a nervous gesture. Or perhaps just one of extreme frustration. “I’ll even give you a medal if you can get him to eat it.”  
  
“No, thanks.” Noel shrugged, and then picked up the bowl and spoon, making the four steps over to Hope’s door. “I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”  
  
He knocked first, since it was only polite, before turning the knob of the old-fashioned door to push his way in before making sure to close it behind himself.   
  
“I can’t guarantee it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted,” Noel started conversationally, directing his words to the huddled ball of misery on the bed who was glaring daggers down at one of his tablets. “But I had some of this in the morning and I can tell you it’s most likely not poisoned, and actually pretty passable.”  
  
“I don’t want any.” Hope frowned, looking rather disgruntled. “I already told Snow that.”  
  
Noel resisted the urge to hopefully smack the stupidity out of both Hope and Snow (and maybe himself while he was at it for staying here), and asked instead, “Why not? Would you eat something if _I_ made it?”  
  
Snow would probably have a hernia outside listening in, but anything was better than Hope’s sullen distance.   
  
“No.” The white-haired man’s answer was quick and flat.   
  
Noel tried a different approach. “Is there anything you _would_ eat right now?"  
  
Hope was quiet for a long moment, still glaring down at his tablet, and Noel thought that he was just going to be ignored since the other had turned his attention away already, but… He had to try at least a little more. Noel waited, bowl in hand, before trying again, "You really do need to eat something -- anything's fine. Something from one of the restaurants back in Luxerion? A certain recipe? We can send Snow really far away to get whatever it is."  
  
Hope snorted at the idea, but uncurled slightly from the defensive ball he'd been in.  
  
"It's fine if you don't want the soup." Noel brought up the bowl as emphasis. "But I can't help you get Snow off your case until you eat something. Anything."  
  
 _He's just worried,_ Noel didn't say, since he was fairly certain Hope wouldn't appreciate the statement right now. Instead, he waited, as patiently as he could, for the person who had been just a week ago the most reasonable person he knew to consider whether he would deign himself to eat like the rest of mankind.   
  
...Okay, maybe his patience was fraying a _lot_.  
  
“I'm not hungry. And... eating hurts.” The man admitted quietly, and then stiffened and turned away sharply, pulling the tablet up to indicate that the conversation was now over.   
  
With that hard-won admission, Noel retreated with Snow’s bowl of soup.   
  
—   
  
“I’m back!” Snow exclaimed several hours later, looking much more lively than he had this morning as he thundered past the front door with a wide grin on his face and several bags in hand. “You won’t believe how hard it is to get these all the way to the desert — hey, how’s he doing?”  
  
Noel gave the man a pointed look from where he was sitting on the counter to give Hope some space at the dining table, the scientist now deconstructing something with vicious enthusiasm and making half-hearted snuffling noises between sips of water every few seconds.   
  
“ _He_ ,” Hope groused, not at all rejuvenated by Snow’s sudden cheer, “is right here and can hear you just fine.”  
  
He ducked his head then, coughing into his palm before reaching for the glass of water again.   
  
“Still coughing,” Noel reported dutifully from the counter where he was just out of reach from Hope’s swipes. “But not any worse than before.”  
  
Instead, Hope threw a plastic piece he had set aside straight at the hunter’s head, only for him to duck and then catch the piece after it clanked hard against the cupboard door.   
  
Hope paused, and then admitted sheepishly, “I need that one back.”  
  
Noel only shrugged and tossed it back for the other to catch.   
  
“Well.” Snow observed with an incredulous expression. “You two seem to have a system worked out.” He shook his head, though, and then set the bags he was carrying upon the unused stove. “But hey, guess what! I’ve got a surprise for you.”  
  
“You don’t say.” Hope quipped, although he leaned forward to attempt a look at the bags, a movement which only prompted more coughing.   
  
“Ta-da!” Snow grinned, pulling out a large fabric cooler from the largest of the bags, and then unzipping the unwieldy thing to reveal several rounded cardboard containers inside. “I didn’t know what flavor you might want, so…”  
  
“Wow.” Hope intoned dryly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in what was obviously an irritation most likely due to the bit of allergies that even the antihistamines couldn’t get rid of. “You robbed an ice cream shop. Congratulations on your budding career as an ice cream villain. Suits your name well.”  
  
“Hey, now.” Snow tried to sound hurt, but that was completely belied by the grin on his face. “You should appreciate this gesture, you know.” He reached into one of the smaller bags and brought out a pack of spoons, which was quickly opened before a random pint of ice cream was picked up and uncapped, the blond digging the spoon inside to hand the goopy mess over to Hope, who accepted gingerly despite looking rather skeptical.   
  
“So it’s not going to be the best thing for you to eat when sick, but give it a try.”  
  
Hope gave the spoon a rather dubious look, but at Snow’s incessant gesturing, brought it to his mouth.   
  
“So how about it?” Snow asked, looking smug.   
  
There was a slow silence and then Hope made a thoughtful hum. Both Noel and Snow were silent, watching. Then the scientist got up and snatched the entire pint clean from Snow’s hand, mumbling something before he left for his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.   
  
“...Probably just realized how hungry he was.” Snow said, and turned his grin toward Noel. “See? I knew I could get him to eat.” Then he rummaged through the cooler again, pulling out another pint. “Want one?”  
  
—   
  
The next day Hope handed Noel a list.   
  
“If it’s not too much to ask,” the scientist said, sound a little better that day, a little more like himself. “Part of the reason I came out to the Dead Dunes was to gather materials. I’d rather be doing this myself, but…”  
  
“I’ll get them.” Noel offered, remembering the last time Hope had gone out and come back with an allergic reaction. He took the list, and then scanned it over, arching an eyebrow in question. “....Goblot hairballs? Twenty lizard tails?”  
  
“It’s a diverse list, yes.” Hope responded unflinchingly. “If it seems rather unorthodox…”  
  
“Oh, no, I can get it.” From the little he knew of the Dead Dunes, Noel figured the little excursion might take him a while. “I’ll tell Snow to stay with you—”  
  
Hope shook his head, holding his wrist in front of himself. “Take him with you. The place is dangerous, and you shouldn’t go on your own when you might run into creatures from the chaos. I’ll be fine on my own inside for a day. I was supposed to be here on my own in the first place, anyway.”  
  
He gestured to the list before Noel could protest, because that sounded an awful lot like a convenient way to get rid of them for a while, “If you can’t get the cactaur blossom, it’s alright. I’m told they bloom around here this time of season, but it may still be a little early.”  
  
“What do you need all of this for, anyway?” Noel asked. It really was a diverse list, now that he looked at it proper.  
  
“Various reasons. Each item has a distinctive purpose, but ultimately leading up to something you’ll find out about later.” Hope reassured him. He paused at the sound of the bathroom door being opened accompanied by a loud yawn, and looked just the slightest peeved. “If you don’t mind.”  
  
The expression had Noel backpedaling a step despite understanding that it wasn’t meant for him. A sick and irritated Hope really was a terrifying thing when he put his mind to it. “I don’t mind at all.” And then he turned his attention quickly away to the man who just emerged, looking bleary-eyed and tired. “Hey, Snow, we’re going out for a bit.”  
  
Two hours later, and Noel wondered how he was supposed to find _twenty_ lizard tails. There were never more than three of those creatures around! A full search, while dodging chaos bubbles and sandstorms, had only yielded him seven so far. He thought it was supposed to be the other items on the list that would give him trouble, but he was wrong.   
  
Glaring at the list as if force of will would change the numbers, Noel finally heaved a sigh and brought a hand to his face to admit, “This is going to take all day.”  
  
A forceful clap on the back had him sputtering.   
  
“That’s the idea!” Snow agreed, looking much more cheerful. Hope had been right about the blond being a big help outside, Snow’s lingering l’Cie powers having kept the balance in many of the battles. “Man, it feels nice to leave that tiny room, doesn’t it? I’m telling you, the Academy needs to give Hope bigger places if they don’t want him to suffocate on their little excursions.”  
  
It was true, Noel thought faintly although he pretended to be scanning the list and ignoring Snow’s words. The living quarters given to Hope for the duration of his stay in the Dead Dunes were tiny — barely a bedroom with ensuite connected to a kitchenette slash living area of roughly the same size. It was perhaps a decent size for one person, but with three in the area, it got a little crowded.   
  
More than a little.   
  
“I doubt they expected us to show up.” Noel defended, and took a step away from the taller blond in case Snow was feeling _affectionate_. Sometimes the man didn’t seem to understand the strength he put into his displays of affection. Noel wondered just how Serah could stand it.   
  
Still, despite the tasks that were definitely going to take him all day, it really was nice to get out for a while. Better than just taking the train back to Luxerion to get supplies. The Dead Dunes felt like what little he had seen so far of the Wildlands — free and empty of the cities he was slowly starting to get used to. People were sparse here, and monsters roamed freely. To Noel, it felt almost reminiscent of… days gone by.   
  
Not to mention, being cooped up wasn’t something he was used to. Getting into fights with the random manifestations of chaos here, though… that was somehow more relaxing than sitting around worrying.   
  
“Maybe they should.” Snow said, stretching his arms over his head under the warm sunlight. Despite the still relatively cool weather, the area was dry and sunny. “He’s important enough he should be traveling around with some protective detail, anyway. Not that he really needs it. That kid’s got more bite than bark, and he’s going a hell of a lot of bark when he feels like it.”  
  
“That’s probably because you still call him ‘kid’.”   
  
“I call _you_ kid.”  
  
Noel didn’t waste the energy to protest that, seeing as how his cultural rite of age would likely be lost on the man and it wasn’t as if those facts were going to change Snow’s bad habits. He didn’t mind, either way. He didn’t care what people called him so long as they understood what he was capable of.   
  
Or it could mean he didn’t yet feel comfortable sharing that information. He wasn’t sure which one prompted the aversion to correct Snow, but it was definitely one of them. After Serah… after Serah, he hadn’t felt too keen on sharing his past with anyone, and it had been several awkward months avoiding the blond before Snow told him bluntly that he didn’t blame him for Serah’s fate.   
  
“I’m not some great leader everyone listens to. Shouldn’t you be,” Noel made a gesture with his arms to indicate his uncertainty, “treating him with respect so others treat him with respect?”  
  
“What? And treat him like some stranger—”  
  
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden ambush, likely a chaos creature who just emerged and heard them. The battle didn’t take long, considering that the two were working together, and the Goblot went down easily.   
  
“That’s another one down!” Snow said cheerily after the battle, punching his open palm with a fist. “And look at that, we didn’t even have to go anywhere. They come straight to us.”  
  
Noel sheathed his swords behind him, frowning as he recalled Snow’s previous words. “This place is more dangerous than I thought. The Academy scientists just wander through here?”  
  
“Sure do. Each team’s got their own escort or something… not too sure about specifics, you’d have to ask Hope.”  
  
They heard the shriek of another monster in the distance, indicating that they’d been spotted, and Snow shared a grin, getting ready to run toward the fight and initiate the battle.   
  
“See? Isn’t it nice of the kid to send us out for a day?”  
  
—   
  
They had to continue the little quest the next day, seeing as they hadn’t been able to find twenty lizards.  
  
Hope was already asleep by the time they got back late at night, and Snow had a good laugh at discovering not one, but three empty cartons of ice cream scattered amongst the pile of papers and tablets on his bed where he apparently just curled up to sleep without so much as bothering to get changed or get under the blankets.   
  
He woke up twice through the night coughing, but Noel wondered if it was a good idea for them to go out if the scientist wasn’t going to get any better in the meanwhile.   
  
“He’ll be fine.” Snow told him that next morning, still sounding amused. It was a good thing one of them had regained their good cheer, Noel figured. “Hope’s tougher than he looks.”  
  
So was Serah, Noel didn’t want to point out. So was everyone else he watched die.  
  
His doubts must have been obvious, since after they found the last lizard and crossed the last item off the checklist, Snow pulled him aside right before they could enter the Academy-built compound again.   
  
“Hey,” the blond commented casually, “You _do_ get the point of this list, right?”  
  
“That Hope’s scientists have some really weird experiments going on?” Noel responded, confused as to why they were questioning it in the first place. Who was he to question why Hope needed Goblot hairballs?  
  
Snow snorted and shook his head. “He’s getting us out of the house before we go stir-crazy. Giving us something to do to make us feel better. Classic Hope, really. Neither of us can do anything just sitting around, so he makes up a task to help us feel accomplished when we’re done. Not to mention, it gets us out so we’re not hovering over his shoulder.”  
  
Snow gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t tell him I told you, but I figured you’d want to be able to see through his devious plans the next time he pulls them on you. You seemed to really think he’d need everything on the list.”  
  
Noel wondered, as he watched Snow walk toward the door and then bellow out a cheerful greeting as the entered (most likely to annoy Hope considering the shouting that started up immediately afterward), just how it was Snow knew that.


	3. Part the Third: Snow

Two days after that and Hope was beyond frustrated.  
  
“Give it time,” Aina told him calmly in her daily updates, her tone as smooth and unaffected as ever. “The other executives understand. The average duration of illnesses last one week, and it’s currently impossible to exact a rate of recovery for individual persons.”  
  
Of course he understood that. Hope himself had marked many absences due to bugs and exhaustion down as illnesses, allowing fellow researchers whatever time they needed to recuperate. With the archaeological inspection already performed by another and all his meetings either rescheduled or delegated, Hope had plenty of time to get better before he was needed back in Luxerion.  
  
But it _was_ a week now and despite all attempts at composure, Hope felt like he was losing his mind. He shouldn't be on the far side of the 'average' duration of illnesses, not when he always recovered fast enough on the rare occasion he got sick in the first place. It was hard enough to leave all the work to other Academy employees, but even the reports he had to catch up on…  
  
He threw the tablet down before himself in bed, feeling a measure angry and disgusted. Despite all the rest he had been getting, or attempting to get, it had been an entire week and he couldn’t seem to concentrate long enough to read through a single report. His mind wandered, easily distracted due to the pressure headache that constantly throbbed under his skin and within his skull. He wanted to spend the time Snow and Noel had been gone from the tiny apartment to get things done, but…  
  
Hope leaned over to rest his elbows on crossed legs, and placed his face within warm palms. Thankfully the pain that accompanied breathing several days ago had diminished greatly, which made his life a thousand times easier, but the constant cough had yet to go away. It was wetter now, perhaps a better sign than the painful dryness the first several days.  
  
If he could just _sleep through the night_ now, he felt his rate of recovery would improve drastically. If he napped during the day, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night until it was nearly dawn, and that meant either Noel or Snow would end up staying up with him as well, which he didn’t want. Yet he couldn’t seem to shake the exhaustion which accompanied an entire week of interrupted sleep. His mind immediately compared it to some bleary eyed researchers he had listened to and comforted in the past — especially those with newborns at home who needed attention at all hours of night. While those people had been getting the amount of sleep necessary, the constant interruptions meant they were more tired than ever.  
  
If this was how they felt, Hope thought as he pressed heavily against his temples, then he was never, ever… well, babysitting, he supposed. ( _Children_ were too distant a thought; an impossibility for him.)  
  
It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, if he could only _concentrate_ on something. He could have used this break to get so much work done, and yet with all the time he now had on his hands, he could do absolutely nothing at all. He couldn’t so much as read through a single report without distraction, much less actually assess the value of what was presented and come up with a suitable response. He was restless and exhausted, with too much time on his hands and yet unable to do anything properly. The combination made for a slow build of frustration overlayed with the original irritation regarding the negative symptoms of his illness.  
  
His stomach grumbled. Apparently consuming little more than water, ice cream, and cough syrup the past several days had not appeased it in the slightest.  
  
 _Great._ Hope thought blearily through his headache. _Can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t work._  
  
To simply say he was frustrated would be severely underestimating his feelings on the subject.  
  
Not that he was going to inform the other two if he could help it. A single moment of weakness several days ago had resulted in him — in his _whining_ for something easier to consume than Snow’s soup. That hadn’t been something Hope wanted to happen again, not when he was supposed to be the mature one; not hen he was supposed to take care of the others, take care of _everyone_. He was likely the eldest now (Snow’s age had been a very blurry subject), and intended to act it. Hope was used to being well-composed. He could do this.  
  
He just had to remember what Aina said — this would only be for a few days, after all. And after that… after that, things would all go back to normal. He’d get back to work, and Snow and Noel would leave for their respective responsibilities.  
  
They’d all go back to their own separate corners again, only interacting whenever forced.  
  
No, that was the headache talking. It wasn’t like that at all. Noel was around whenever he could be, and Snow checked up on them every week. It was just that Hope buried himself in his work whenever possible, understanding that despite the fact that the world was consumed by chaos and therefore no one aged (or perhaps specifically _because_ of that), there was still no time to waste. He had to get as much done as he could every day. Aging or not, the chaos being a hindrance or not, there were still people he cared about that he still needed to help. He still had friends trapped in crystal; he still hadn’t saved humanity from extinction.  
  
Thanks to the lack of new life, every soul lost now was a blow to mankind.  
  
Which meant that despite the lack of aging, Hope was once again working within a time limit. If he took too long to figure out a solution to this problem, then humanity would die out anyway.  
  
(Maybe he was the one who had retreated into his own little corner, unable to deal with having people who might matter to him close again.)  
  
The painkillers really did absolutely nothing for his head.  
  
If he took more than he was supposed to, he knew, Snow would just take it away (just like with the cough syrup). But that didn’t matter because it wasn’t the typical headaches Hope had long since adjusted to due to his work — no painful pounding or pulsing in his skull, but rather a constant pressure just under the skin, as if someone was slowly tightening a clamp around his head from all directions. It made eating painful, it made acting normal precarious, and it made thinking on one subject for an extended period of time downright impossible, always turning his thoughts back towards his irritation or pain.  
  
He glanced down to the tablet, brain attempting to filter through the thick medical and scientific jargon that accompanied the illustrious wording of someone who wanted to showcase the very best of their idea while downsizing the negatives. From what he had been able to gather, in bits and pieces, there was a small group on the outposts of Luxerion pleading for the funding to further look into the lack of human aging in the chaos. Something to do with experiments to determine whether the _development_ of people had stopped as well, such as feelings, emotions, and brain chemistry. The hypothesis being that if the chaos halted human aging the moment it hit this world, then it might have also have stuck a wrench in human brain chemistry.  
  
Those in love will stay in love; the sick will never truly recover, and the despairing would always despair. There would be not only a lack of aging, but a lack of improvement and growth for humanity even in spirit.  
  
Hope didn’t want that to be true.  
  
He wanted to argue that it couldn’t be true, because people were still asking questions, were still getting sick, were still not only going about their daily lives but learning new things as well. He wanted to deny the research, but the truth of the matter was that the youngest of their children simply weren’t learning. Perhaps it really was because the brain wasn’t growing, but perhaps there was something to this theory as well. If toddlers hadn’t learnt to speak before, they might never learn to speak so long as the chaos surrounded this world.  
  
All the same, he wondered if it was bad manners to approve the project but then assign it to different people. It wouldn’t do for the original group to start hiding results that didn’t go their way, and it was better for a more… objective point of view, anyway.  
  
Any other time, and he would have written a response to be looked over by Aina within minutes instead of pondering over this matter for the past four hours. He just couldn’t seem to get the wording right in his head, couldn’t decide on what he could say that wouldn’t disappoint the petitioners.  
  
Not to mention, he was a bit distracted by the extension to his stay in the Dead Dunes. The original plan had only been for a week, and then to stop off on Bhunivelze to input data gathered before heading back to Luxerion. Apparently Snow had once again interfered with his calls and now his itinerary involved another day in the desert before a private transport to the still under construction Yuusnan.  
  
Which meant he was probably going to get _nothing_ done at all. It was unacceptable.  
  
He didn’t understand Snow’s current need to interfere with his life. Hope had been doing just fine on his own the past several years. If nothing else, he was an adult who could handle himself; _had_ handled himself well in a variety of situations. Being smothered now was…  
  
Hope let himself fall on his side onto the bed, muffling the frustrated sounds he made into the blanket. Maybe he could sneak out somehow past the others. Take his life back into his control. Crush the illness if he could only —  
  
There was a knock, and then the door opened. Hope didn’t bother looking up from where he was lying in bed, hoping that whoever it was would just assume was he taking a nap and leave him alone.  
  
“Snow finally listened to me.” It was Noel’s voice, and somehow Hope wasn’t too surprised since the hunter tended to move with such a fluid grace it was near impossible to hear him coming and going if he didn’t purposefully make noise. Snow, on the other hand, tended to be loud in everything he did whether it was stomping around in the fashion he liked to call walking, bumping into every other thing in his way, or even just the way his tone tended to cut through distances without needing to so much as raise his voice.  
  
(Admittedly, it was a skill Hope never managed to learn, much to his dismay. Instead, he relied on his own meager presence and a bit of patience before others usually quieted enough to listen to him.)  
  
There was a shift, unusual for the hunter since he was normally so silent in his movement. “He called up a doctor in Yuusnan to meet us when we get there—”  
  
If nothing else, _that_ made Hope stop pretending to be asleep, instead pushing himself up on his arms and glaring over at Noel (who probably didn’t deserve his ire, but he hadn’t thought it entirely through yet so he wasn’t sure). “What? _Why_?”  
  
The thought was ridiculous. If Hope needed a medical doctor, there were plenty employed under the Academy. Not to mention, he had a full health check up not five months ago and was completely caught up with the latest inoculations and examinations. This was nothing more than a cold (combined with allergies, which they had found out several days ago when the antihistamines helped greatly), albeit a stubborn one. Other than persistent minor flu symptoms that were grating on his nerves, there was nothing more wrong.  
  
“Because you sound like you’ve swallowed cheese grater.” The answer didn’t come from Noel, but from the man who stuck his head through the bedroom door. For someone who had been stuck in a tiny area for nearly a week and subjected to minor tantrums on a regular basis as well as being awoken at all hours of the night, Snow looked rather cheerful and not in the least bit guilty about having suddenly moved in and completely taken over Hope’s life.  
  
“Let’s play a game.” Snow nodded sagely. “Called — if you can stop coughing for more than five minutes at a time when you’re awake, then we’ll cancel the doctor.”  
  
Hope narrowed his eyes at the man, ignoring the worried look Noel was shooting between the both of them even as he swallowed heavily once, twice, attempting to dispel the inevitable itch. It couldn’t be that hard. He just needed to focus his willpower, after all, and this was a good challenge to rise up to. “Fine. I stop coughing, and you leave me alone altogether.”  
  
“Done deal.” Snow accepted quickly, and then added, “But I get to decide when to start the timer, okay?”

  
— 

  
An hour later, even Noel was starting to look amused despite his worry.  
  
“Shut it,” Hope wheezed in his direction even as the brunet raised his hands in surrender, backing up a step in the tiny kitchen area as Hope raised his half full glass of water threateningly. “This is harder than you think.”

  
— 

  
Nearly three hours, many glasses of water and plenty of bathroom breaks in between, and Hope sat down next to Snow on the couch quite smugly while the blond was reading a book.  
  
“I _don’t_ need a doctor.” Hope told him, smug despite the raising itch in his throat. It was just over five minutes, after all, and he hadn’t realized before this just how often he had been coughing, even if it was just a quick cough to clear his throat most of the time.  
  
“What was that?” Snow asked, not raising his attention from the book. “You want me to start the timer now?”  
  
Hope gaped for a moment, then drew in a sharp breath to yell only to have that air get stuck in his throat and urge a quick coughing fit.  
  
“That didn’t last very long.” Snow observed, looking like he was trying very hard to smother a pleased grin. “Maybe you should practice more before — Ow! Wait, Hope, hey! Stop hitting me already! That actually hurts!”  
  
“That is the _point_.”

  
— 

  
Needless to say, Hope was sulking pointedly by evening, and then through the transit the next day as well, burying his nose in datalogs and refusing to so much as speak or look at Snow. Noel found it amusing at first, mostly because he somehow remained the neutral party and was often called upon to relay messages between the two despite them still being in the same room. That feeling wore off quickly when even Snow started getting a little tired of the invisible treatment. Luckily, it never went further than that and despite the sullen silences through the day, they arrived in Yuusnan without any further incident.  
  
Noel didn’t quite understand just how Hope managed to be perfectly cordial to the doctor Snow had called in, answering her questions and enduring her examination with a calm and almost serene demeanor while at the same time refusing to glance in Snow’s direction.  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Snow told Noel when the hunter brought that up, clapping the younger man on the shoulder with a strained smile. Despite his upbeat attitude, it wasn’t too hard to tell that even the older man was stretched thin attempting to deal with Hope’s illness (and perhaps, the uncharacteristic attitude that accompanied it). “Think of it as a good thing if you’re going to keep thinking about it.”  
  
“As a good thing?” Noel asked incredulously, not even bothering to pull back from Snow’s overenthusiastic idea of physical affection. He couldn’t see how the constant verbal sniping the past week had been a good thing at all.  
  
The entire week had worn on him despite the two days when he had thrown his frustration against the creatures of the Dead Dunes. Noel found he disliked playing mediator between a sick and peevish Hope and a fed up Snow. He didn’t know how Hope constantly did it for other people.  
  
Snow just shook his head slightly, but it was neither disapproving nor an answer to Noel’s question. Noel found his attention diverted when the doctor (a solidly built lady with short cropped brown hair who was almost as tall as he was) pulled out a penlight to check Hope’s eyes. While the two of them chatted amiably over in the other side of the room, the hunter found himself having to unclench his fingers, far too used to enemies pulling weapons from pockets rather than doctors and their equipment. It was easier now that he was more acclimated to society, but back when he had been travelling with Serah, the slightest twitch and laugh of a person far off would send him tense and ready for battle.  
  
Noel had never grown up with so many people; so many strangers. At the end of times, he had been taught to protect Yeul against enemies, yes— but those were mostly singular or in small groups. He could take down the largest and fiercest of monsters, but travelling back in time posed a new concern he never learnt to deal with: people, or strangers, and more importantly, _mobs_.  
  
Strength in numbers had been nothing more than a distant concept to Noel before he met Serah. His experience with that statement never went higher than three or four people at a time, and while New Bodhum had been extremely populated and robust to him, the Bresha Ruins downright crowded… Academia had been _dizzying_. It had been daunting to realize the sheer number of people living in just one city, and just how easily the hearts of so many could be swayed by just the will of one.  
  
It was Serah who explained to him, one night as they settled down in the Sunleth Waterscape some era in which Noel hadn’t paid attention to, just how important each person was. Noel had known this, of course, down on an instinctual level having lived in a time where people were scarce and life was precious beyond all compare, because for him every life was a reason to go on. Yeul was the most precious and to be protected at all times (and Serah had been in tears laughing when he shared how he used to try to stand guard at her crib when he was three only to fall asleep next to her), but every single life was a light in an ever dimming world.  
  
“I guess it’s really different for you.” She admitted to him that time, lying on her stomach with her chin propped on a palm and closer to the fire than he was. He remembered how the flames illuminated the highlights of her hair, braided for the night. Mog had already settled down to sleep, resting lightly against Serah’s back. “I grew up with so many people that most of us didn’t think we’d be really important at all. We all _wanted_ to be important, but there’s only so many names out there you can remember as someone who… changed things.”  
  
“Everyone’s important.” Noel argued back, still sitting near the fire with his legs crossed and his swords atop his lap, having agreed to take the first watch of the night.  
  
“And I agree with you completely.” She nodded sagely, shifting just slightly as to not disturb Mog. “But… I guess I didn’t see it like you did when I was younger. The world was a big, scary place for me. Strangers could be dangerous. To me… to everyone, I think, most individuals weren’t as important as you would make them out to be. Of course they were important, though! Everyone’s lives impact each other’s, and..”  
  
She hummed in thought. “I’m not explaining this very well, am I? It’s just — in a world of so many people, some are _seen_ as more important than others. Someone important has a good idea, and thousands of people agree or start acting on that idea. Someone not famous has a good idea, and it probably never gets heard no matter how great of an idea it is because there's just so many other people it has to go through. A celebrity dies, and thousands of people mourn. A random bypasser on the street dies, and while it’s a tragedy, only the people who really knew him would grieve. It doesn’t make him any less important, but… when there’s so many people, you’d have to make a difference in some other way. Like how I teach — in that way, I’m connected to those children, and they might learn my lessons and pass them on to the people they touch as well. That’s how we’re important. Not in our lives, but in how we influence and shape the world around us. We leave our mark through our actions.”  
  
Serah flushed at that point. “Of course, I never really expected to be one of those important people who's actually doing the changing. I never thought I’d be traveling through the timeline and fighting monsters and — I didn’t think my sister would become the knight of a Goddess, you know? I guess the best I expected would be that my actions would eventually influence someone who might influence someone else who would be some great celebrity people listened to.”  
  
“Like Hope?” Noel asked, amused.  
  
She laughed at that point, nearly dislodging Mog from her back entirely before she smiled gently. “I guess so. Yes. Like Hope. He really is someone a lot of people listen to, isn’t he?”  
  
Noel hadn’t really understood it then, possibly still didn’t now, but he knew that a lot of people’s lessons and influence led to Hope, and in turn the scientist influenced and shaped the world around him. That was how leaders worked: like Yeul, the populace would follow him where he led them.  
  
Somehow that bit stayed with Noel. The more he thought about it, the more he might understand it — Yeul was also one person many put their faith in, and in return she saw and shaped their futures. That reminder somehow made Noel just a bit more tense whenever someone came close to Hope; strangers especially. He chalked it up to his lessons on protecting Yeul. It was easier to face this new and unending world with what he had been taught — to protect someone, even if Hope didn’t need that protection in the slightest bit.  
  
If Snow ever noticed the moments of tension, he never mentioned it.  
  
The doctor asked several more questions with a smile, voice low enough that Noel could barely make out the questions unless he strained to listen in. She reached with thinly gloved hands to touch the sides of Hope’s face and the scientist responded with murmurs.  
  
It wasn’t long before the examination was finished, the entire process having only taken minutes. The doctor mentioned the two of them forward and told them, “Good news and not-so-bad news: Mr. Estheim’s fine, there’s nothing serious going on, he’s not even contagious. Not-so-bad news: it’s not just a cold, but it _is_ still easily taken care of. My initial diagnosis is a sinus infection, although I’d like to do an endoscopy before I prescribe antibiotics.” She turned her attention to Hope. “It’s a good thing Mr. Villiers came to me — sinusitis can last weeks, up to months, without antibiotics, despite not being life threatening on its own. I’m sure you must be quite tired of the pain already.”  
  
Hope gave a strained smile.  
  
She patted him on the knee reassuringly, and continued in Snow’s direction. “I’ll be back within an hour with my full kit — I must say, Mr. Villiers, Yuusnan palace would benefit greatly from a fully functional medical facility. Or several. You may want to take that into consideration. Until then and even after, I’d recommend plenty of fluids and bedrest for Mr. Estheim, and if the headache gets bad again — try breathing through a warm, wet towel. Steam might help you feel better, and even a hot towel on the forehead is better than nothing.”  
  
“That’s it? Steam? That’s what we were missing?” Noel asked, feeling flabberghasted.  
  
“Of course not.” The doctor stood, and picked up her bag. “You were missing me. Believe me, it’s a good thing we caught this early still. Most people believe they’ve caught a prolonged cold for weeks, and if left on it’s own too long there’s a small chance it could cause complications such as meningitis, and that’s something we never want.”  
  
She hoisted her bag over a shoulder, and then smiled down at Hope, who was looking a little pale. “But don’t worry, Mr. Estheim. We’ll have you feeling a hundred percent in no time.”

  
— 

  
“So that’s it.” Snow proclaimed as he dropped into one of the larger couches in the large room with a tired sigh, propping his feet up on the other end of the armrest. He covered his eyes with a hand and gave a soft groan as his back adjusted to the soft cushions underneath him. A second examination and a list of medicine later, he managed to wheedle a humidifier from one of the palace workers, creating a drastic difference in the room to the dry desert air from the past week. “That just about wraps things up, then.”  
  
The blond spread his fingers and opened one eye, darting a glance toward Noel. The hunter seemed to have settled himself just fine on the floor, one knee propped up as he leaned against the wall, looking just as tired as Snow felt. “Want me to show you to a room? Got plenty of space here.”  
  
“No, thanks.” Noel responded, settling in further where he was sitting. “I’ll be fine here.”  
  
Hope had fallen asleep hours ago, almost immediately after taking the medication and breathing easier with the steam vented in his direction. Thanks to the spaciousness of Yuusnan palace, the room Snow managed to appropriate was far larger than the entire apartment Hope had been staying at in the Dead Dunes. It meant that the feel of the room was entirely different, from the echoes of their own voices to the cooled moist air.  
  
“You know, decent rest helps you not get sick.” Snow retorted, going back to covering his eyes. “That’s probably how Hope ended up like this in the first place.”  
  
“Doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere, either.” Noel said, and then waited a long moment, allowing the silence to seep in and Snow’s breath to even before asking, “What did you mean earlier? About it being a good thing.”  
  
“What being a good thing?” Snow slurred from where he was lying all across the couch.  
  
Noel took a moment to think. “His… behavior.”  
  
“Who, Hope?” At that, Snow parted his fingers again to peek out. “Did I say — ? Ah. That’s what you’re talking about.”  
  
“So what did you mean?” Noel pressed, feeling that it was the perfect time to ask, now that everything had settled down.  
  
Snow shifted, and then brought down his arm as he gave the matter some thought. “I had a friend… nah. More like family. Heard you met ‘em — NORA. I had to leave them back in New Bodhum.”  
  
Noel breathed out carefully, wondering if his question hit a nerve. “I met them.”  
  
“Then you must have talked to Lebreau. She’s… heh. She’s a tough one. Keeps everyone in line. Hell, she kept me in line before I met Serah. Most stubborn kid I ever knew while growing up, and she ended up being a bartender. I never figured that from her, seeing as bartending means she ends up listening to other people’s troubles and trying to help them. She was always better at, you know, yelling at people until they behaved. But that’s what she wanted to do, and — she did it. People went to her for drinks and then because she was good at listening without judging. More patience for her customers than she ever had with the rest of NORA, that’s for sure.”  
  
Snow linked his hands behind his head, feeling an old pang of guilt for the leaving that family he built for himself. Some things just had to be done, but it didn’t make the pain any less sharp. He did a lot of things, left a lot of people he never imagined himself to leave, in order to live up to the image that Serah loved about him; the image that he built for himself to live by, to live _up_ to. He was a hero, and that meant leaving personal luxuries like friends and family behind when called upon to help save the world. NORA understood. They always had, because each and every single one of them would have made the same choice if they had to.  
  
“She gets the same attitude as Hope when she’s sick, you know?” He huffed a laugh in remembrance. “There’s a lot of names I could call it, but any of it would have made her throw things at my head. Gadot and I used to just find a way to be anywhere she wasn’t whenever she got ill, because she was just so hard to deal with. What made it worse was how she was still nice to everyone else, you know? But to us…” He shook his head slightly. “It definitely felt unfair when we were kids.”  
  
“What changed?” Noel prompted.  
  
Snow was silent for a long moment, staring up at the vaulted ceilings and wondering if he should be trying to avoid the sharp pain in his heart every time he thought of her. “I met Serah.” And Serah had changed everything in his life. Everything had been brighter. He was a better person because of her. Even now, even after she was gone — “First time Lebreau got sick after that… we all warned her about how bad it could get. Tried to sneak her away, too, but Serah wouldn’t have any of it. Said that families looked after each other when someone’s sick. I was a bit of a fool for her back then —” _Still am._ “So i stayed with her. Got the verbal flaying of my life from Lebreau that time. Everything I did was wrong, where as Serah’s actions were compared to angels.  
  
“Of course, with Serah there, Lebreau got better in no time. I tried asking—” Snow laughed, a quick, sharp sound. “About that superpower of hers, how she could get mean Lebreau to be so nice to her even while sick.”  
  
“Maybe you could have tried being nicer.” Noel offered up as an answer.  
  
“Nah.” Snow dismissed. “Tried that the first time when we were kids, and I got nowhere. But that wasn’t the trick.”  
  
 _”There’s no trick.” Serah said with a giggle behind her hand. “I’m a bit disappointed, actually. She’s so much nicer than Light. I thought you said Lebreau was mean when she’s sick!”_  
  
“She is!” Snow whined at her, trying to look as pitiful as possible. “That’s why I’m asking for your trick. How come she was yelling at me all the time but doesn’t so much as complain when you’re around?”  
  
“I can’t wait until she starts yelling at me.” Serah said instead, surprising him. He was left floundering in that moment, wondering if the girl of his dreams was actually a secret masochist thanks to having Lightning as her sister. “I want her to feel comfortable enough to do that when she feels bad. People are only perfectly polite to strangers when they’re ill. If yelling at someone when she’s sick makes her feel even the slightest bit better, then being yelled at can’t be so bad, can it?”  
  
“She told me people are supposed to complain and whine when they’re sick.” Snow recalled, remember the exact tone of her voice, that lilting laughter and the smile as bright as Phoenix. “If they feel bad, if they’re in pain, then keeping silent about it isn’t going to help them feel any better.”  
  
 _”The best thing you can do.” Serah said, both hands cupping the sides of his face and bringing his tall frame down to her so very easily with the lightest of touches and an upward curl of her lips. “Is be there for them to vent to. That’s what families do, even if it’s not a very fun job.”_  
  
That was one of the lessons he learned from Serah — about patience, about loyalty, about love. True to form, even Team NORA had been closer after Serah’s presence brightened up the day. Now, over five hundred years into the future, Snow had lost them all: all of NORA, and even Serah’s breaths like the warmth of sunshine against his skin. Everything he learned about family, he learned from Serah. And now, Hope may be the closest thing to family he had left. Snow may not know much about the inner workings of a traditional family, but he learned enough from Serah and from his own fumblings with NORA to garner a clue.  
  
He leaned his head back onto his linked fingers, remembering the stop he made in 400AF after finding out Hope (that little kid who used to stomp his feet when mad, who wasn’t tall enough to reach Snow’s chest, whose voice would crack and break when he was upset, and whom he once promised to look after) had also left everything he knew behind in order to pursue something greater than himself; than all of them.  
  
He hadn’t been very good at keeping his promise to look after Hope, but Snow tried his best nevertheless. Even if the kid wasn’t really a kid anymore, and even if he didn’t want Snow there.  
  
At the very least, Hope wasn’t a perfectly polite stranger when he was ill. That had to mean something. If Snow was lucky, it meant that they were still family after all. The same self-proclaimed family Vanille had once enthusiastically regaled about.  
  
Families annoyed each other, argued with each other, would get mad and storm out, but would always end up together again no matter how bad it got. Snow hadn’t been very good at keeping his promises because there were things out there more important than even family, and he had an obligation to do his best to protect the world, to protect the future. He left Serah not because he wanted to, but because he had to in order to even have a future with her.  
  
Now, that future was gone.  
  
“It’s what families do.” Snow echoed, crossing his arms under his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. “They may not always be there when you want them to be, but they’ll be there when you _need_ them to be.”  
  
That’s what he learned from Serah — even from Lightning. 

  
— 

  
Unclenching the fist he had wrapped in the blanket, Hope finally closed his eyes and let himself drift into the first restful sleep since he set out for the Dead Dunes.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bunch of regurgitated words. I got sick last April and wanted someone to share my experience, thus Hope is sick. But then I wanted some bonding between the characters since I was sorely missing that in Lightning Returns. Somehow, this turned really long and became a... thing. Welp.


End file.
